


Upon the Crescent Moon Lake

by hidden_dreams



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 11:07:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20865197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidden_dreams/pseuds/hidden_dreams
Summary: For all his life, Doyoung had only one wish — that is to return to the kingdom of Silla and unearth the truth behind his birth. But Youngho remains unconvinced and has promises to fulfill. And the Tang empire, for all its splendor, also came with the enigma that was Jung Jaehyun.





	Upon the Crescent Moon Lake

(Eve of Lunar New Year; Youngho is twenty-two, and Doyoung, eighteen)

It’s finally the time of the year Doyoung has been eagerly awaiting for, where he can join the Tang folks to see the firecrackers go off, dance together with the children, or simply indulge himself in the cheery atmosphere of the festivities that is a stark contrast to the constant dreary atmosphere inside his own residence. It’s already his twentieth year living in Chang’an, the capital of the Tang, but he never really had the opportunity to venture beyond the brick walls of his residence lest’ festivals came around and his bodyguard would relent to his endless pleading.

“Only this once.” Youngho would always say, but Doyoung knows very well that his best friend was in reality just a soft-hearted guy who couldn’t stand to see him sulk in sadness and remain tightly guarded in his residence all year round with no semblance of freedom. Despite his cold demeanor and killer gaze, he was really just someone who wouldn’t stop teasing and making fun of Doyoung whenever he messed up his calligraphy paintings or accidentally placed too much salt into whatever dish he was making. He was also the one guy who had pledged his utmost loyalty to Doyoung, promising to always stick by the latter, and to protect him at all costs and keep him out of harm’s way. In short, Youngho is a fiercely loyal and skilled swordsman, and most importantly, he is also the best friend whom Doyoung adores.

Though, things do get ugly whenever Doyoung threads on thin ice and starts probing into the mystery of his birth and identity. He simply doesn’t understand why he was sent to the Tang kingdom when he was birthed in the Silla to healthy parents who were affluent and of high statuses (according to his serving lady, before Youngho hurriedly shushed her with a threatening glare). It was only after a long while of pondering and a whole lot of messy thoughts later that he figured he was most likely the illegitimate son to some pair of scandalous star-crossed lovers that was just not meant to be. There was no other explanation he found logical enough, and Youngho simply went mute whenever this topic was brought up. Doyoung has always been observant enough to catch the way his shoulders would tense, and how his eyes would harden before the same words spilt past his lips.

“You will know when time allows for the mystery behind your birth to be unraveled.”

And Doyoung would sigh quietly and retire to his chambers, craving for the warmth of his unknown family whilst tossing and turning to yet another sleepless night. Youngho could only stare after his best friend’s back at times like this, lips pressed into a thin line.

* * *

When they finally leave the residence , the sky had already dimmed and the streets were starting to come alive. Merchants and folks hurried to hang up some last-minute handicrafts, all in different shades of red, yellow, and pink. They can smell the delicious food being cooked up by families for their respective reunion dinners, and slowly, lit lanterns donned the branches of trees and shrubs. The sight alone was beautiful and bewildering, even after all those New Years Doyoung had spent in Chang’an. He briefly wonders if festivities in Silla were celebrated in a similar fashion, before the banging of drums brought him out of his reverie. A performance troupe with performers decked in colourful outfits was dancing to an old folk song, one depicting the mythical tale of the _ nian _, a creature with features of both a lion and a wild dog that supposedly comes out of its hiding place at the beginning of every new year to feed on humans and animals. A smile blooms on Doyoung’s face as he blends in with the crowd, eyes never straying from the colourful performers, Youngho right by his side.

“Daoying!” A familiar voice pierces through the air, and Doyoung’s lips curls up immediately. He whips around and finds the person he has been looking forward to see for a long time, now dressed in a long, purple silk robe woven from the finest _ Liaoling _ damask, with a jade belt resting at his waist. Doyoung raises his eyebrows at the outfit, knowing fully well what the deep purple colour and jade accessory meant. Only civil officials and military personnel of the highest ranks could possibly don such an outfit in the Tang empire.

“Sicheng,” Doyoung acknowledges the other boy in fluent _ hanyu _*, voice teasing, “seems like someone got a promotion and didn’t even think of dropping by my residence to share the good news with me?”

Sicheng flushes a deep red at Doyoung’s teasing, his head dipping down in mild embarrassment.

“I —”

“Eh, don’t be like that, Daoying!” A loud and animated voice cuts Sicheng off from what he was going to say, and Doyoung rolls his eyes, already knowing who the new intruder is. He turns to his right, and is greeted with the sight of Xuxi, one of the palace guards who drops by his residence weekly to report on the military clashes at the northern Tang border to Youngho. The Tang has been embroiled in border clashes with some of the nomadic tribes for quite a while now, but recent rumours have it that the tribes have regrouped and entered into an alliance that would no doubt threaten the Tang’s military stronghold in the north. And even though Doyoung is resigned to staying in his residence for the most part, he could still feel the palpable tension in the air that one night Xuxi reported the news to him and Youngho. The young guard’s shoulders were tense, his face void of his usual cheeriness, and in place of it were traces of worry and fear. Xuxi has always been easy to read after all, and he knew that trouble would no doubt find its way onto Chang'an's doorsteps sooner or later.

But now isn’t the time to be dwelling on such issues — Doyoung’s only wish right now is to spend a peaceful and warm evening out with his favourite people in the world and celebrate the coming of a new year together with them. And so he returns his attention to the Xuxi, who is now standing next to Sicheng, youthful exuberance radiating off him with his wide, child-like grin. Doyoung cocks his head slightly, signalling to Xuxi to continue whatever he wanted to say.

“Sicheng here,” Xuxi explains with barely-concealed excitement, “only arrived back in Chang’an three days ago. He barely had any time to settle back down before he was whisked away to the Forbidden Palace. Apparently, his findings in the Western Regions were deemed invaluable by the Emperor himself that he demanded an audience with Sicheng. And guess what? Whatever he had to say of those Buddhist scrolls and inscriptions he found in Dunhuang pleased the Emperor so much that he was promoted to the rank of Grade 3 on the spot! Can you imagine the incredulous looks on the faces of those sly, old men in the Ministry of Rites when they heard about this? I could barely contain my laughter when I saw them!”

At Xuxi’s outburst, Sicheng flushes an even deeper red. “Don’t listen to his nonsense, Daoying. The Emperor was merely awed by the historical value of the scrolls and inscriptions, and definitely not by me. Besides, I wasn’t the only person on the expedition to the Western Regions — a few others from the Ministry and the few guards who accompanied us deserve the same credit. It’s just — it’s just that the Emperor happened to request for my audience out of everyone else, really.”

Doyoung almost chuckles after hearing what Sicheng had to say. The younger boy really has not changed much since the last time he saw him over a year ago — always so humble and down-to-earth.

“Surely you must have done something for the Emperor to bestow such a rank upon you,” he says amusedly, “but let’s not dwell anymore on this, shall we? For we have more important things to do now, like, celebrating your promotion.”

Sicheng, still embarrassed, nods meekly. “My treat? Both as a celebration and as an apology for not being able to come by earlier?”

At that, Xuxi visibly brightens up even more (if that is even possible) and yells out something along the lines of “thank you for your generosity, my lord!” whilst Youngho chortles at the sight of both Doyoung and Sicheng hiding their faces in embarrassment as they stalked away from the tall guard.

* * *

It was only after the four of them have filled their stomachs with Chang’an’s delicacies at Sicheng’s residence and a round of drinks later, that Doyoung found himself back on the streets with Youngho following close behind. Having loosened up from the alcohol they had, the two of them weaved through the crowd seamlessly, shoulders visibly relaxed and footsteps light. They come to a stop only at the entrance of the West Market, which was alive with festivities. Orange and red lanterns were strung up everywhere, and the market was filled to the brim with stalls selling good luck charms, little trinkets, and steaming hot buns. Families and couples huddled together, all in wait of the fireworks. Doyoung lets out a clear, bright laugh, his eyes widening as he takes in the wondrous scene unfolding before him, trying to imprint it into his memory.

When he finally breaks out of his reverie, he reaches for Youngho and pulls him into the market, and minutes later, they find themselves under a huge elm tree. The branches of the tree were barren since it was wintertime, but in place of leaves hung countless little trinkets and red ribbons.

Doyoung lets go of Youngho’s arm, reaches into his robe, and pulls out two red ribbons. He hands one of them to Youngho, and the latter sends him a half-amused and half-bewildered look.

“Where do you even get these red ribbons from every year, Doyoungie? I was pretty sure I had you under my close watch!”

The younger laughs at the pout that was forming on Youngho’s face before reaching up to one of the branches to tie his own ribbon, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, I have my own ways, Youngho. You don’t really think you’re the only one that gets to sneak in treats from outside, do you?”

“You’re insufferable, Doyoung.” Youngho’s pout deepens, but the look in his eyes is fond and betrays his words. He mirrors Doyoung’s actions and ties his own ribbon on one of the branches, his height lending him much ease.

Once the two of them are done tying their ribbons, they clasp their hands and close their eyes to make their wishes, just like all the other new years they have spent in Chang’an. As the first of the fireworks sound off, they crack their eyes open to take in the beautiful sight. The sky was ablaze, with red and yellow streaks shooting up into the sky before dissolving into thousands of sparks.

“Doyoung?” Youngho asks softly as the fireworks come to an end, “what did you wish for?”

And Doyoung, with his eyes still trained on the sky, says: “I made a wish to return to Silla, Youngho. Silla, our home?”

His voice was soft, and his tone wistful. Youngho could see the longing in his friend’s eyes and he suppresses a sigh. Memories of a youthful-looking man start to resurface, and in Youngho’s memory, the young man’s forehead was creased uncharacteristically into a deep frown, his eyes full of nothing but worry and sorrow.

_ “Youngho-ah, promise me that you would keep him safe,” The man, Donghyun, had pleaded. “Promise me that you will never ever let Doyoung step foot into Silla unless I grant the two of you permission.” _

_ The man’s voice was so earnest and pleading that Youngho found himself nodding along unconsciously. _

_ “And one last thing — promise me you will never tell Doyoung about his real identity. You know that it’s far too dangerous for him to know, don’t you?” _

And Youngho had simply nodded in response again, not trusting his own voice. That day had been full of revelations, yet none could be uttered. None at all.

And so back in the present, Youngho doesn’t say anything in response. His heart ached for his friend and he wished he could do something to ease his pain and longing, but Donghyun’s words echoed in his ears.

_ This is all for the best_, he convinces himself.

* * *

*hanyu here refers to 中古漢語 (zhonggu hanyu), which translates to ‘Middle Chinese’. It is a variety of Chinese that was spoken during the Tang period, which differs distinctly from the standard Chinese dialect (putonghua) that is used in China today.

**Author's Note:**

> So I have had the first few paragraphs of this fic in my drafts for a long while now, and couldn’t get round to finishing the first chapter until now because of school and work (sigh). I have always wanted to write historical fiction because I have an inexplicable fascination for history, and the Tang Dynasty is one of my favourite dynasties in Chinese history due to various reasons so that's how this fic came to be, I guess. 
> 
> Also this chapter is just an introduction of sorts to Doyoung and his closest friends in Chang’an, which explains the lack of Jaehyun or any other key characters here! The future chapters will also offer more insight into why this fic was titled as such and till then, adios!
> 
> (Also, talk to me on my newly-created Twitter account @wednesdaycouple!)


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